


Reimagining Faith

by casisdeanswin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: As close to smut as I can write without embarrassing myself, Cas doesn't know what footsie is, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Coda, Dean Winchester Talks About Feelings, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Fluff, How I want Supernatural to end, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Jack is God, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Season/Series 15, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Season/Series 15, kind of, lots of cuteness, manifesting this after canon deancas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24557638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casisdeanswin/pseuds/casisdeanswin
Summary: It's over, they've defeated Chuck, defeated everything, and now they can finally rest. With Jack occupied in his new position as God, and Sam planning to move in with Eileen, Cas and Dean find themselves alone in the bunker with an undetermined future. Cas is questioning his use, his rapidly declining power playing on his mind, and is considering giving up his grace altogether. Meanwhile, Dean is focussed on swallowing his feelings for a certain angel and navigating through the possibility of retiring from hunting forever. Will they figure out a way to build a future together?Set after the Season 15 finale, this fic is essentially how I would like Supernatural to end.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester (mentioned), Team Free Will 2.0 - Relationship
Comments: 14
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been toying with the idea of writing something like this for a while but it wasn't until Reese (@mf_yeehaw on Twitter) mentioned her ideal ending for the show that I actually felt inspired enough to sit down and write. Full credits to her for coming up with the idea for the final scene in this fic, I couldn't have come up with it alone!
> 
> This has been my project for the past few months and as much as I'm sad it's over, I'm really happy it helped me get over my writer's block, and I hope everyone enjoys it!

In the end, Cas supposes, Billie was right, Jack did have the power needed to defeat God. She could have mentioned the part where their victory would result in Jack essentially replacing Chuck as God, but at least it worked. At least they can finally rest. 

It was kind of weird though, even he had to admit it. Being called ‘Dad’ by the new God was going to take some getting used to. Good thing he had time. 

That was two weeks ago, and since then, Dean has prided himself on a new brand of ‘Dad jokes’. Of course, he’s the only one who finds them funny, but Cas laughs along, telling himself it’s because he does see the humour, and not because really, he would do anything to see Dean smile. 

Speaking of which, Dean’s smile has been making more regular appearances now that they didn’t have to worry about God destroying the universe. Some days, he smiles more often. Like the days spent in the bunker’s kitchen, cooking pie, burgers and (not that Dean would admit to it) a new spinach and kale recipe suggested by Sam. Evenings spent marathoning movies also tease it out, and if the mood is particularly good, and the movie is humorous enough, sometimes he laughs too. 

The one downside to these movie nights, in Cas’s opinion anyway, is when Dean falls asleep mid-movie, leaving Cas trapped on the couch, Sam and Jack having retired to their rooms hours ago. It’s nights like these, Cas thinks, that really test his resolve. He can’t blame Dean for his actions whilst asleep, nor can he read too much into them. So, on the nights when Dean shuffles in his sleep and snakes an arm around Cas’s waist, pulling him in closer and resting his head on his shoulder, Cas breathes deeply, and reminds himself that Dean would never do this consciously. 

It’s only when the sun has risen and Cas is certain he can risk waking Dean up that he untangles himself slowly and rises from the couch. Six times it’s happened now, each time making it harder and harder for him to act like nothing happened. Really, Cas should feel proud that he’s managed to handle the situation so calmly, so efficiently, but for some reason (for reasons he tries not to analyse), he can’t help but feel disappointed in his ability to keep the occurrences hidden from Dean. But rather can create unnecessary tension, Cas holds on to these moments of joy, ,to the rare times he sees Dean relaxed and at ease, just in case. Soon he might not be there to witness them, because really, what reason is there for him to stick around? Any day now he could be told to leave. He isn’t needed anymore, the case is closed, Chuck is defeated. And besides, even if there was a new threat, Cas’s power is rapidly declining, his grace gradually leaving. So what use is he anymore?

* * *

The morning after the latest movie incident sees Cas and Dean sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, Dean readily eating his bacon and eggs and Cas politely trying his too, not wanting Dean to think he doesn’t appreciate his efforts.

“Hey guys, can I talk to you about something?” Sam’s voice echoes from the corridor. “It’s kinda important but you, uh, you don’t need to worry about anything,” he says, stumbling over his words as he walks towards them. Years ago, Cas would have his suspicions about whatever subject Sam was so nervous to approach, but now, after everything they’ve been through, he’s learnt to trust the Winchesters completely. 

“Sure Sammy, s’long as you can get your words out,” Dean responds casually, a grin plastered across his face and betraying his pride at managing to tease his little brother. But Cas sees through it, even if Sam doesn’t. Dean’s scared. 

What of, Cas can’t decipher. Perhaps he’ll ask him later.

Feet shuffle across the floor. “I...uh...well,” Sam looks around the room, carefully avoiding Dean’s eyes. “Eileen called.”

“Yeah, and?” Dean’s deflecting again, thinks Cas, he’s trying to appear unbothered by the direction the conversation seems to be headed in. 

Sam appears to realise that stalling isn’t helping, taking a deep breath and immediately launching into the reason he came to talk. “She wants me to move in with her, thinks we should rebuild the Men of Letters in some abandoned headquarters over in New Mexico. Kinda use it as a base, get some organisation in the hunting community, y’know?”

Cas does know. At least, he knows how currently disorganised the hunting community is, and he’s proud of Eileen for trying to take initiative and fix it. Dean however, has paled slightly, and Cas can’t decide if Sam’s in for a shouting match or dismayed resignation. He also can’t decide which would be worse. What Cas expects to hear from the hunter’s mouth is something along the lines of, “What about this, the bunker? Hell, if you’re gonna rebuild the Men of Letters, where better than here? I mean dude, this place is warded against everything, it literally has all the books and scrolls you could ever need for research. Why waste it?”

Instead, Dean keeps the grin on his face and replies, “Sounds great, Sammy. I mean, Eileen is great, and you two make an awesome team. I bet you’ll have the system up and running in a couple of months.” 

Judging by the confusion written across Sam’s face, Cas is pretty sure that this isn’t the response he was expecting either. After taking a moment to fully digest Dean’s response, Sam opens his mouth to elaborate on his plans. Only, Dean cuts him off before he can say anything.

“Dude, I bet you’ll have a great time. You’ll have a cool chick, a brand new house and a whole load of time to devote yourself to research. What else could you need, am I right?”

Sam’s eyebrows furrow, before he decides he’s best off accepting his brother’s enthusiasm and avoiding an argument. “Yeah, I can’t wait. I sorta already told her I’d do it so I’m really glad you’re ok with it Dean, it means a lot to me.” Sam’s clearly waiting for Dean to answer, make some sort of joke or poke fun at his little brother for going all chick-flick on him. But Dean surprises them both again with an announcement that he has to go check on something really important in his room, and that it could take a while, so don’t bother checking on him. 

“Well,” begins Sam, eyes turning back to meet Cas’s after watching Dean leave hurriedly, “that was not how I expected him to react. Like, at all.”

Cas agrees; given Dean’s prior experiences with being separated from his brother, he can’t say he would have been surprised if Dean had exploded. Sure, Cas might have been with the Winchesters for around twelve years now (give or take, what with his stint as God and purgatory, and, oh, Lucifer), but Dean Winchester is a puzzle he has yet to solve. 

Cas likes to entertain the idea that one day, in the future, he’ll understand the Righteous Man. Understand why he appears to maintain a facade around strangers, turning up the flirtations for women and generally pretending like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Yet, in the bunker, around the people he feels comfortable with, Dean lets the facade slip a little, removing the mask just slightly. 

Recently, Cas has noticed a change in Dean. Emotionally at least, anyway. He no longer complains when Sam suggests a ‘chick-flick’ for movie night, or when Jack comes to visit full of questions that don’t exactly offer the easiest answers. But most noticeably, Dean has stopped closing himself off from affection, or rather, has opened himself up to it, both giving and receiving. It ranges from a hesitant hand on Cas’s shoulder, a sign of praise, Cas reasons, to crushing hugs after a hunt that was perhaps a bit too close to going south. Even Cas has to admit; the hugs are his favourite. He lov-...no, he enjoys the careful way in which Dean folds his arms around him, pulling on his neck slightly as he buries his head in Cas’s shoulder and tries to steady his breathing. So yeah, Cas isn’t at all averse to the way Dean is changing.

“Uh, Cas?” Right, he remembers, Sam’s concern drawing him away from his thoughts, Sam still wants to talk to him. He looks up with a sheephish smile, letting him know that now he’s paying attention. 

“You know I’m not doing this to hurt him, right? It’s just, with Eileen, it’s so easy just to be. It’s like how Dean is with–” he pauses mid-sentence. Like Dean is with who, thinks Cas desperately, finish the sentence Sam, this is important. But obviously, Sam can’t hear his internal screaming, and Cas isn’t about to accidentally reveal his feelings towards Dean, so he lets him continue.

“What I mean is, you’ll take care of him Cas, when I’m not here, won’t you?” 

“Of course Sam. Whatever you need.”

Sam turns to leave, “And hey, Cas? Dean isn’t great at telling people what he wants. So just, I don’t know, take a few risks maybe. It worked for me and Eileen.”

And with that confusing statement, Sam walks away, leaving Cas with unanswered questions and slight panic rising as to why Sam would think to compare his friendship with Dean with his relationship with Eileen. Unless–no, Cas is not going to let his mind wander. Instead, he will focus on trying to honour Sam’s wishes and care for Dean in his absence. He’ll treat it like a mission of sorts. At least then he will be needed. 

He stays at the table, now alone in the room, and for once he relishes in the quiet of it. His eggs lay untouched on the plate, his plan being to save them till last, but Sam’s revelation had distracted him, pulled his focus away, and now they were cold. He knows he could eat them anyway, knows it would be easy to give into the hunger deep in his stomach, hunger that shouldn’t be there. But he doesn’t, because doing that would be an admission of his lack of strength.

* * *

In the days after Sam leaves, Cas finds himself waiting for Dean to explode, for the reality to hit him. It never does. Dean continues on as if nothing has changed, and Cas, well Cas still hasn’t decided if it’s a good or bad thing. After his talk with Sam, Cas was sure Dean would fall back into old habits the second his brother moved out. He had been ready to deal with Dean throwing himself into hunting, becoming reckless in a way he’d been trying to leave behind for years now. For him to search for solace in a bottle of Jack Daniels, kept by his bed in case of emergency in the middle of the night. But none of these things have happened. In fact, Dean seems to be relishing in the freedom of only having two (or three, when Jack visits) people in the bunker. 

There’s an empty mug on the bench, stained with rings of coffee left over from Cas’s late night craving. They’ve been happening more often, the cravings, catching him off guard each time. He isn’t used to wanting things. Nevertheless, he tries to get rid of them when he can. In the process, he’s found he has a favourite mug, a green one with a chip around the lip that he finds himself narrowly avoiding each time he goes to take a sip. The colour is what draws him to it the most, the deep shade reminding him of the forests in Indonesia. The memory is bittersweet, serving both as a reminder of the power he once held and simultaneously the limits he has now. He used to move mountains, he used to be worth something,

“Morning Sunshine,” says Dean as he makes his way to the coffee on the bench, aiming a wink at Cas and drawing a blush onto his cheeks, melancholy thoughts disappearing in an instant.

“Good morning Dean.”

“So, you got any plans for today?” 

“I don’t suppose I do.” Cas considers his options, tilting his head to the side in thought, “Perhaps you and I could do something together?”

Dean doesn’t even try to hide the smile on his face, and sits down opposite Cas. “Sure, buddy, that sounds awesome. Any suggestions?”

Which is another thing Cas has noticed. The way Dean alternates between affectionate nicknames like “Sunshine” and the “Sweetheart” that slipped out a couple of nights ago, and much more casual ones; namely “Buddy”.

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” he says honestly. “We could...go for a drive somewhere? You always seem to enjoy our time in the Impala.”

Something grazes his foot, gently moving it to the left. The movement continues, and Cas’s sock falls down an inch, leaving his ankle exposed to the object. For a moment, Cas panics, his mind suggesting possible monsters that for some reason or another, have a preference for feet. But then he notices the slight pink tinge appearing on Dean’s face, and the way he averts his eyes and shuffles in his seat. Oh, he realises, heat rising to his cheeks, it wasn’t any sort of monster. It was Dean.

“Yeah, uh, sounds good Cas. I’ll put on some music, continue your education,” he huffs a laugh, “see if you’ve got a preference for Zeppelin or Metallica.”

Dean moves his leg closer, still lifting Cas’s foot slightly under the table. Cas’s breath hitches.

“Anyway, uh, you want something to eat first? And don’t give me that ‘I’m an angel’ crap, ‘cause I’ve seen the way you eat PB&Js, and there’s no way someone without taste buds could enjoy something that much.”

Dean’s right, Cas has been finding more pleasure in food lately, a side effect of his lack of grace no doubt. He’s about to answer when Dean interrupts him.

“Oh, and before you pull that self-sacrificing bullshit on me, I’m making stuff for me too, so might as well double it up. Just in case you were about to turn down the offer,” he finishes, filled with far less bravado than he started with.

“I wasn’t,” Cas starts, a smile tugging at his lips, “but your concern means a lot to me, Dean.”

“Sure,” he stands up and turns away to hide the blush on his cheeks. “I’ll just get started with breakfast then.”

* * *

Three hours, six pancakes and two showers later, Cas is sitting in the Impala alongside Dean, ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’ blaring through the speakers. He hasn’t told Dean yet, but he considers this to be his favourite Led Zeppelin song. He enjoys the way it begins rather softly, acoustic guitars played in unison, before building up to a section led by an electric guitar. The lyrics interest him too; they create a sense of adventure and wonder that Cas feels he can relate to. But he hasn’t shared this with Dean yet; he’s quite content to continue his ‘music education’ for as long as he can.

The song ends and another begins. Cas recognises this one, he remembers it from the mixtape Dean gave him. 

“You like this one?” Dean’s voice cuts through his thoughts and Cas struggles to respond without letting his feelings slip into his words.

“Yes. I think it may have been on the mixtape you made for me.” Cas plays it cool, a habit he learned from Dean.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean turns to face him, brows raised and eyes disbelieving, “‘Course it was! You can’t create a list of Zeppelin’s greatest songs and not include ‘Ramble On’. It’d be a crime!”

Cas lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Really, he should be able to distinguish between when Dean is actually angry and when Dean is jokingly outraged. But like he said, he has yet to figure him out entirely.

“Dean,” Cas frowns, “I’m not sure the exclusion of a song in a list that is a matter of opinion would qualify as a crime.”

At this Dean laughs loudly, the sound echoing around the enclosed space and bringing Cas so much joy, despite not fully understanding the reason behind it.

“You know what, Cas, you’re probably right,” says Dean composing himself, “but it should be a crime.” He turns back to face the road, smile still going strong. Cas does the same, noticing a strange feeling in his stomach when he thinks about how it was him that put that smile on Dean’s face.

The rest of the drive passes a lot quicker than Cas would have liked, the majority of it spent in silence, with the exception of Dean’s off-tune singing. Cas keeps himself occupied by watching the scenes that pass by the window. His head begins to feel heavy, and for once he cuts himself some slack, as Dean would say, and allows himself the small luxury of resting it against the glass. He quickly becomes aware of the discomfort it gives way to, the jarring movement of the Impala causing tiny bounces that somehow seem more comparable to earthquakes from Cas’s perspective. He wrestles with the decision of whether to lift his head again and concentrate on keeping it upright, or whether to suffer through the shakiness and risk bruising his forehead. After careful consideration, he chooses the latter.

It’s worth it to spend time with Dean while he’s still needed.

* * *

It’s a Thursday night that Cas finds himself at Dean’s door, his reading disturbed by Dean’s screams. Despite being used to Dean’s nightmares, it never gets any easier. Cas tries to ignore them mostly, disgusted at himself for not having enough grace to stop them like he used to. But some nights the screams are too loud. Tonight is one of those nights.

He’s hesitant to enter, conscious that this is Dean’s private space, and whilst he might be allowed in for movie nights, entering without permission is a breach of trust, and Cas really doesn’t want to lose Dean’s trust. Besides, Dean wouldn’t want him to enter, Dean doesn’t need a babysitter, Dean would hate him for overstepping the line. It seems his mind has gotten better at taunting him.

Just as he turns to leave, Cas is reminded of Dean’s prayer in purgatory. Of the way he wore his heart on his sleeve, if just for a few minutes, and bared his emotions openly and without regret. So he takes a chance, and turns the doorknob.

It takes a minute for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but even before he sees Dean he can hear him tossing and turning in his bed, tormented by his nightmares. His eyes eventually confirm Dean’s discomfort. In his bed, Dean is moving constantly. After shifting from his position on his side, he flips to lie on his back, face becoming visible, and Cas notes how his brows are furrowed and his mouth is downturned and his–

“Cas no! Please don’t leave, please don’t leave me! Cas stop! Cas!” 

Cas freezes, Dean’s cries stopping him dead. Dean was...Dean was dreaming about him? No, not dreaming, Dean was having a nightmare about him. But why? For what reason would Cas’s absence have such an effect on Dean?

Cas continues towards the bed. 

He knows he shouldn’t try to use his grace to stop the nightmare. There’s barely any of it left, not nearly enough to put Dean’s mind to rest. But he could try, couldn’t he? Surely some help is better than none, even if he can’t stop the nightmare altogether. 

Dean would disapprove. Tell him he wasn’t worth it. But he was, Cas was certain of it. Dean Winchester was worth every drop of grace he had left. 

He’s been thinking about giving it up altogether, becoming human. It’s been a long time since Cas has felt like an angel; his connection to earth being stronger than his relations to heaven for years. And yet, he hasn’t confided in Dean about his ideas, fear holding him back and whispering that once he was human, Dean would truly have no use for him anymore. One day he’ll tell him. 

Despite his caution, Dean seems to sense his presence. In one swift movement, he bolts upright, eyes blown wide and searching around the room frantically.

Cas quickly glances away, ashamed to be caught, and casts his eyes downwards preparing to be berated for invading Dean’s personal space.

Because of this, he doesn’t see the way Dean’s body relaxes the second his eyes make out Cas in the dark room. He doesn’t see the way his shoulders sag in relief, the way his fists slowly unclench. Cas doesn’t see how quickly the fear in Dean’s eyes is replaced with an adoring gaze.

“Dean. I apologise for disturbing you. That was not my intention. I’ll just...go.”

He retreats to the door, murmuring another quiet apology. But Dean’s voice stops him before he can leave. 

“Cas, wait.” His voice is laced with slight panic, and Cas puts it down to the nightmare. “Will you...do you mind staying? Just for a while?”

Cas sucks in a breath and turns to face Dean in astonishment. “Of course Dean. I’ll stay.”

Dean shifts across the bed and pats the space beside him. Oh, Cas realises, he wants me to lie beside him. So Cas obeys, and fills the space tentatively after removing his trenchcoat and folding it over the armchair.

“You can relax, Cas. I just,” he pauses, struggling to find the words, “I just need you to be here is all.”

Hesitantly, Cas shuffles closer to Dean, close enough that their hips are touching and their hands are mere inches apart. Dean’s breath catches in his throat, the noise coming out strangled and displacing the silence around them, and Cas is sure Dean is about to shrink away from the contact. Which is why it throws him off completely when Dean shrinks the distance between them further and rolls onto his side, leaving his back pressed up against Cas’s chest. There’s an awkward minute where they both adjust to the new position, with Cas trying to figure out where to put his arms before settling one on Dean’s waist and extending the other upwards to rest on the pillow. Nevertheless, once they’re both comfortable Dean’s breath fills the room once more, this time a contented sigh, and Cas smiles to himself, letting himself relax.

And that’s how it starts. Well, not starts. The real start was in an abandoned barn in Pontiac, Illinois twelve years ago, when a faithless man came face to face (or rather, knife to chest) with an Angel of the Lord. But this was a new start, as cliche as it sounds. This was the start of Dean Winchester allowing himself to be free in his emotions, and how he expressed them. Which, in this case, was allowing himself to be held by Cas, fingers running through his hair and calming words chasing the nightmares away.

* * *

From that night onwards, staying in Dean’s bed becomes a regular occurance for Cas. It starts out as a way to comfort Dean after a nightmare, but after a week Dean decides it would be easier if Cas just stayed there every night. It makes sense, figures Cas; the nightmares were more common than a peaceful night’s sleep, so he was there more often than not already.

Above all though, Cas relishes in the feeling of not only being needed, but being wanted, especially by Dean. He’s long since passed the point of ignoring his feelings, but there’s still uncertainty as to the extent of which Dean knows about them, let alone returns them. Sharing a bed every night is one thing, confessing his love is another.

Despite all odds, Dean’s touches are growing more lingering, more meaningful with each day that passes. What was, say around a month ago, a gentle hand on his shoulder, is now Dean’s arms pulling him in, Dean’s head burrowed into his shoulder, Dean’s breath on his neck. Visits to diners are now accompanied with Dean feeding him spoonfuls of pie and hands brushing under the safety of the table. It’s happened more than a few times, but the touch still sends a shiver down Cas’s spine, and he once again struggles to keep himself from doing something stupid like pulling Dean into a kiss. Movie nights progress significantly too, until Cas can no longer tell himself that Dean is unaware of the effect he has on him. Now, instead of waiting until sleep overcomes him to pull Cas closer, Dean begins to initiate the contact mid-movie.

They’re watching Raiders of the Lost Ark on the night that Dean lifts his head from Cas’s chest and says he wants his opinion on an important matter.

“Dean,” Cas is caught off guard, wondering why Dean would choose now of all times to start a conversation. His voice has an edge of surprise to it, accompanied by concern as he continues, “What is it?”

“I think we should quit,” he announces, eyes meeting Cas and challenging him to respond.

“Quit?”

“Hunting. Permanently,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” Cas is lost for words, his brain evidently unable to process what he’s hearing. Dean Winchester, the man who’s been hunting since he was four years old, with one failed attempt to quit already under his belt, wants to leave hunting behind forever.

“Cas, say something. You’re kinda scaring me, sweetheart.”

The nickname has the desired effect. “Sorry. I was just...processing.” He runs his fingers through Dean’s hair before continuing, “You’re sure this is what you want? To quit?”

Dean gives him a pointed look, then smiles up at him. “I’m sure. I’ll admit, it took awhile for me to accept that it was what I wanted, but I’m just tired, y’know. I’ve been in this life for, what, thirty-six, thirty-seven years, and I’m just so fucking tired. 

“I’ve done good, I know I have, but I’ve also done some real shitty things in the name of hunting, and I just need a break.” Cas notices Dean’s voice cracking on the last word, and pulls him in tighter. “God I’m such a sap. I just...I really need to get this out I guess. Been burying my feelings since before I knew my way around a gun,” he huffs a laugh, the sound leaving a bitter taste in Cas’s mouth. “Which is another thing, since I’m on a roll here. I never got to be a kid. I had my childhood pulled out from underneath my feet by my own dad at four years old. I never got to be a kid Cas, who does that to someone? Who does that to their own fucking kid?” He’s crying now, tears running down his face as he wipes them away with the back of his hand. Cas touches his hand to his own cheek, only vaguely surprised to find it damp as well.

“Sometimes I think it might’ve slipped his mind, that me and Sam lost a mom the same day he lost a wife. But all he would talk about was revenge. And it was so hard Cas. One day I was just like any normal kid: a mom doting on me and Sammy; a dad teaching me normal kid stuff like how to play baseball and shit. And then suddenly, it was all gone. We stopped being kids the moment mom died, and dad couldn’t even find it in himself to make it easier for us. Nah, he just dived right in the deep end. Packed up that night and off we went.” Dean runs his hand over his face, tries to compose himself. “But yeah, I figured now that we stopped Chuck and Jack’s busy keeping the peace and Sam and Eileen are doing...whatever it is they’re doing, what’s one less, I mean two less hunters? We deserve this, Cas. I deserve this. Man, I’m pretty sure we deserve a hell of a lot more, but I’ll take what I can get. So yeah, to answer your question, this is what I want. Besides,” his gaze softens, “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Cas inhales, resists the urge to kiss Dean right there and then. But despite Dean’s admission and the underlying confession of his feelings, Cas can’t help but think that right now, what Dean needs is a friend, not a lover. 

He mirrors Dean’s movements from their past movie nights, snaking an arm around his waist and increasing their contact. It’s his way of letting Dean know that he understands, that he’s there for him. Dean has always been more tactile than he lets on.

“A break sounds nice,” says Cas, knowing it was enough, that all Dean needed to know was that they were on the same page.

“Awesome,” Dean replies, finally breaking eye contact and placing his head back on the angel’s chest, “I’m really glad you’re here Cas.”

“Me too,” he says, and they return to the movie, neither one of them paying it any attention.

* * *

The days pass, and Cas finds he likes retirement. He’s picking up more hobbies (his favourite being gardening) and he enjoys the way he can see Dean relaxing more as time goes on. Cas also discovers, in all the free time he has, that he likes being the one to break down Dean’s walls. It’s subtle in a way he hadn’t expected it to be, though he’s not sure why. In his mind, the walls had always come tumbling down all at once, crashing to the ground and leaving Dean exposed and vulnerable. It would happen without warning, taking them both off guard and setting into action what could be the most significant declaration in Cas’s life. But that’s not how it happens. Rather than the sudden change he’d been anticipating, Cas finds Dean opening up slowly but surely, akin to removing bricks one by one as opposed to knocking the whole wall down at once.

And then the accident happens. 

Cas supposes it’s only logical that after weeks of domestic bliss, something would go wrong. Perhaps referring to it as ‘the accident’ alludes to a much more serious situation than the reality. The reality being Cas misjudging his knife skills and accidentally cutting his finger.

Dean comes racing into the kitchen the second he hears Cas shout out in pain. It’s not hard to actually see the way Dean’s throat tightens like a fist as he comes stumbling towards him.

“Cas,” his voice breaks, the word sounding hoarse. He tries again, “Cas, what happened? I heard you shout and I thought...I thought...Are you ok?” 

If Cas wasn’t already aware of the seriousness of the situation (which, by the way, was not very serious), the rawness in Dean’s throat would lead him to assume the worst. Which is odd, now that he thinks about it, considering all that has happened is a cut to his finger.

But Dean isn't fully aware of to the extent his grace is dwindling, and something in Cas finally clicks. Dean heard him shout, voice strained with pain in the middle of the bunker. And for all he knew, something had happened to Cas, something so bad that it managed to make an angel fully loaded with grace cry out in pain.

Cas says, “Dean, it’s fine, I’m fine,” and lifts his finger to show Dean the damage. “See, it’s just a cut, I promise.”

Dean looks confused and hopeful and relieved all at once. “But why and how did a goddamn knife make you hurt so much?”

Ah, thinks Cas, so this is how he will tell Dean of his lack of power, his lack of use.

“My grace, it’s, well it’s losing power. Soon enough there won’t be any of it left at all.”

Dean tries to hide the shock on his face, but he isn’t quick enough; Cas catches the way his brows raise and his face falls before he gains control over it again. “So, what? You’ll be human? Just like that? No falling or ripping out your grace, just, one day you wake up without any juice left in you?”

“Essentially, yes. My grace has been,” he pauses to think of the appropriate word, “decreasing for a while now, Dean. Once it runs out, yes, I will become human.”

“Huh.”

“Dean–”

He doesn’t get the chance to answer. Dean snags his tie and pulls him closer, closing the distance between them. For a few seconds, they just stay there, noses touching and breathing into each other's space. If Cas were fully human, he knows he’d be holding his breath involuntarily, an unconscious response to being so close to getting what he wants.

“Been wanting to do this forever, Cas.”

Dean touches his lips to Cas’s tentatively, and all Cas can think is that it isn’t at all like he imagined it. In the rare times he indulged himself and entertained the idea of kissing Dean, it was always rough and messy, teeth crashing into each other and the two of them struggling to catch a breath. Years of pent up emotions finally surfacing.

But this, this is different. Better. Dean is pouring himself into the kiss, and Cas gets the feeling he’s using it to say the things he’s not quite ready to put into words. He’s kissing back now, starting gently before growing slightly impatient and pushing his tongue against Dean’s lips until he’s granted entry. There’s a need to feel and explore, a want for this to be perfect, to memorise the feel of Dean’s lips on his. And yet there’s a sense of longing in his touch too, like he’s close to having everything but it’s just out of reach. Becoming human will be like completing the puzzle, putting the final piece into place.

Dean responds to his invitation by letting a low moan escape his lips and deepening the kiss himself. At this, Cas has the urge to be closer, aware of the tiny space still between them. He’s sick of space, he’s put up with it for years, ever since his early rebellion. “Personal space,” he recalls Dean explaining. Truthfully, he didn’t understand the need for it at the time, but he listened, following orders and trying his best to keep the space to an acceptable minimum. Now he gets it; invading a human’s personal space is a sign of intimacy.

Dean pulls back, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide, and Cas just stares. Beautiful is how he would choose to describe the hunter in this moment. Deep breaths fill the air, and Cas feels a surge of satisfaction and pride over being the one to reduce Dean to the state he’s in.

Then he decides he’s waited long enough, and takes advantage of Dean’s breathiness to catch him off guard and manhandle him towards the nearest wall. Judging by the dilation of Dean’s pupils, Cas would feel confident in saying he wasn’t opposed to the change of position.

“Cas, uh, not that this isn’t the best kiss I’ve ever had, but could you maybe…” 

His unfinished request appears to fluster him, and Cas hurries to encourage him, planting a kiss on his nose. Dean flushes a deeper shade of red, but continues. “D’ya think you could maybe pickmeupandpinmeagainstthewall?” 

The words come out in a jumble and Cas takes a second to unscramble them, his head tilting to the right and staring at Dean perplexed. It doesn’t last long. Three seconds later and he’s grabbing Dean by the ass and lifting him up with ease, trapping him against the wall as per his request. He counts another three seconds of Dean gazing at him, eyes filled with desire, before he dives in and captures his lips again.

They continue for what feels like hours. Cas reasons that they’re simply making up for lost time. No matter what, he’s certain he could never tire of this. So it’s with reluctance that he pulls back and lets Dean find his footing before putting the space between them once more. 

“Mmmff,” says Dean, not quite adjusted yet to the distinct lack of Castiel in his personal space, “What’d you stop for?”

Cas can’t help but laugh, completely filled with joy at the sight of Dean looking extremely disheveled, knowing it was him that caused it. “I thought maybe we should talk, before this,” he gestures to what little space is between them, “gets any further. I need you to know, Dean, that this can’t be a one-time thing for me. My...my feelings for you would not allow it.” 

“Cas look at me,” Dean lifts his hand to touch Cas’s cheek, “I kinda thought I was being obvious, lately especially. I mean, come on, we’ve been sleeping together for over a week now!” He stops, realises his choice of words, and blushes. “That’s, that’s not what I...I didn’t mean...still, the point is Cas, I’ve been...well, flirting with you since Sam left. So just for the record, this can’t really be a one-time thing for me either.”

Cas makes a soft noise at the back of his throat and folds his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling them closer together until their bodies are intertwined. He can feel Dean smile against his shoulder, his head buried in the crook of his neck, and his stomach flips at the feeling of finally being so close to the man he loves.

“I didn’t expect you to reciprocate my feelings,” he mumbles into Dean’s shirt, grateful for the chance to hide his expression.

Dean lifts his head up, prompting Cas to do the same, and the two exchange a look, Dean’s eyes bearing into his own. 

“Look, I’m not great with feelings. Actually, scratch that, I’m pretty shit at feelings, but when it comes to you, put it this way: I ain’t stupid. Would take a real fool not to realise that I,” he swallows and pushes onwards, “that my feelings for you passed friendship a loooong time ago. And I don’t mean like family, not that you aren’t family, it’s just, the way I feel about you is way different to how I feel about Sammy. Obviously, since he’s my brother, and you’re, well–”

“Dean,” he cuts him off, smiling fondly at his nervous rambling. “I understand. I feel the same about you.”

Dean’s eyes light up and he visibly fumbles for words. “That’s, that’s great Cas. God we’re idiots. Imagine how much sooner we could’ve had this if we both weren’t too fucking brain dead to make a move.”

Cas laughs and smiles up at him. “What matters is that we know now,” he says, and places his head back on Dean’s shoulder. 

“You wanna continue this somewhere else, angel?” 

Cas nods, and makes to question Dean’s choice of nickname. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how he looks at it), he doesn’t get the chance. He’s way too preoccupied by Dean picking him up bridal style, ignoring his half-hearted protests, and carrying him in the direction of his bedroom, his laughter echoing through the corridor.

* * *

When they wake up in the morning it’s with their legs tangled together, Cas’s arm slumped around Dean’s shoulder, both pressed up against each other tightly. It’s not all that different to the way Cas has been waking up for weeks now, but something about this morning makes him feel warm inside, like their conversation from the previous night somehow made them gravite closer.

“Mmmfff,” Dean stirs and stretches his arms back, hitting the headboard and flinching back. “I love waking up with you.”

Cas grins and leans in, placing open-mouthed kisses along Dean’s jaw, before reaching his mouth and pressing their lips together. Unlike last night, they’re both still half-asleep, so nothing transpires further. They do however spend an hour just laying there, trading lazy kisses and mumbling sleepy words into each other’s ears.

Eventually, Cas spares a glance at the clock. “Mmm, Dean, I think we should,” he struggles to protest with Dean’s kisses making their way up his neck. “Dean, it's almost eleven. As much as I hate to stop this, we really should get up.”

The kisses are replaced with a groan as Dean buries his head under the duvet. “Don’t wanna.”

Cas rolls his eyes and playfully hits him as he takes initiative and drags the duvet onto the floor, leaving them naked and exposed to the cold air of the bunker.

“Caaaaaas!” He jumps up in shock and fixes him with a glare that could only be interpreted as betrayed. 

He gets over it pretty quickly when Cas suggests a shower to wake them both up appropriately. 

They spend what little time is left of the morning no further than two feet apart. Breakfast sees Dean learning how to multitask, having to manage an angel wrapped around him from behind with bacon cooking in the pan. The bacon ends up burnt. Neither of them complain.

By the time afternoon comes Cas takes off to tend to the garden, but not before steering Dean towards the couch and giving him something to keep his mind occupied whilst he’s gone.

* * *

His time in the garden allows Cas to feel close to the peace he’s been chasing for years. It’s all around him. It’s in the way the water rushes out of the watering can, hitting the plants in a steady flow. The way said plants shift under the force of it, leaves bobbing downwards and causing droplets to run off the edges and onto the soil. And it’s present in the sun beating down on him, the heat warming his shoulders and sending shivers down his spine, a strange reaction that Cas finds himself enjoying. He straightens up, back cracking as he returns to his usual posture. The pain is foreign to him, and honestly, he’s not even sure pain is the right word for it. Perhaps an ache would be more fitting. Yes, an ache, thinks Cas with his hands on his hips as he leans backwards and twists to the side. He jerks upwards again, a movement triggered by an aborted attempt to bend down further, and decides that he’s done enough gardening for the day.

Rose buds planted and sunflowers watered, Cas enters the kitchen satisfied just in time to find Dean moving around and grabbing ingredients for dinner, singing along loudly to Led Zeppelin. He knows the song, it’s another from the playlist, and he’s happy that this time he doesn’t need to hide the fact that he remembers.

At the sound of his footsteps, Dean turns around, wooden spoon in hand and stupid grin plastered across his face. Once again, Cas is hit by how relaxed he looks.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hello Dean.”

“So I’m finally trying out that recipe you found a couple weeks back. Dude, it has rutabagas in. Until yesterday I didn’t even know those things existed!”

Cas bites his lip to hold back a laugh and moves closer to take a peek at the food. Dean’s facing the stove now, attention focussed on the pan bubbling away. It’s moments like this that Cas finds the most remarkable about humanity, how such mundane things can bring so much joy. He understands better than he did years ago, but some of it is still a mystery. Perhaps when he joins them he’ll gain a better understanding.

“Dean, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” He tries to approach the subject gently, aware of Dean’s tendency to think the worse the second someone wants to talk. Tact must have failed him, however, as the minute the words leave his mouth Dean’s entire demeanor shifts. It’s like Cas can see him putting his walls back up. His shoulders have tensed and his grip on the spoon has tightened, and Cas hates that he responds like this so automatically. He hates that Dean has been let down so many times that he’s come to expect it.

When he finally speaks, it’s in a controlled voice, every trace of joy having left. “Sure Cas, what is it?”

He’s trying to act casually again, and he’s hoping Cas won’t be able to read the panic in his eyes. He’s wrong of course, Cas recognises it immediately. He turns the stove off, concerned that the conversation might last longer than the rutabagas.

He’d been planning on introducing the idea slowing, giving Dean time to process and adjust to the news. But now, standing opposite Dean, he realises that isn’t what he needs. What Dean needs is to be offered reassurance before his mind manages to fabricate a million situations in which he ends up alone, abandoned by Cas. Which of course, Cas won’t allow to happen. So he just rips off the bandaid.

“I’m going to remove the last of my grace.”

Whatever Dean was expecting, it certainly wasn’t this.

“Remove you grace? Isn’t that supposed to be, oh I don’t know, extremely painful?”

Cas sighs and patiently explains. “Generally yes. But like I told you before, my grace is weakening every day. It’s of no use any more.”

For some reason, this appears to anger Dean. He shifts to put his hands on his hips and look Cas up and down, judgement written plainly across his features. “It’s of no use? Cas, no offense or nothing, but I couldn’t give two shits if your grace is of use. That’s not why I need you here. It’s not why I want you here.”

“Jack says–”

“And anyway, I thought you said you didn’t need to rip out your grace. I’m pretty sure you told me you’d just wake up one morning human. Why go to unnecessary lengths when you can just wait a little longer and bam! You become human.”

“Jack says that due to the small amount of grace I have left, it should be simple to extract it. Pain free,” he adds, in an attempt to ease Dean out of his anxious state.

Dean looks torn between staying angry or succumbing to happiness. He settles on confusion. “Ok, first of all, why the hell would you want to become human faster? It’s not like you had the best experience last time — no thanks to me — so why not stay an angel for as long as you can?”

“Dean, think about it. When was the last time I went to heaven, or saw any of my brothers and sisters?” He gives Dean a moment to think. 

“Huh. I don’t really know. Definitely before the whole Chuck thing.”

“Exactly. I’ve spent far more time on Earth, with you, than I have in heaven. I haven’t felt close to heaven since before Naomi, and even then I felt I had a stronger connection with Earth.” Cas steels himself, gathering the strength needed to back up his argument, “I feel more like a human than an angel, I have for a while now.”

And there it is. The real reason why he wants to become human. Dean is looking at him with a mixture of wonder and hope, but he knows him well enough to understand that while he’s happy, there’s a part of him that fears he’ll regret his decision.

“Cas I get it, I do ok. And while I love the idea of human you and human me spending our lives together, I don’t think you get that you’re literally giving up what could be hundreds of years. Hell, for all we know, your grace could have a thousand years left in it. I don’t want you to go through with this and wake up one day only to realise you’ve made a huge mistake, and there’s nothing you can do to fix it.”

It’s the reaction Cas had been preparing for, if he’s being honest, so for once in his life he knows what to say next. “I want this,” he says, looking Dean in the eye and trying his hardest to convey how he feels. “I want to be human. Not in hundreds of years, now. I need you to understand Dean, that whilst I’m not doing this for you, or for anyone else, you are a huge part of why I want to do this for me. You’re right, my grace could still last for years, but if I waited years you might not be here anymore. I love you, Dean Winchester,” he waits for Dean to panic, but it never comes, so he lifts his hand to cradle Dean’s face. “I love you,” he repeats, “and I would be honoured to spend the rest of my life with you.” He hesitates, suddenly unsure of himself, and adds hurriedly, “As long as you’re ok with that, of course.”

When he looks up at Dean he can see that his eyes are glistening with unshed tears, and he prays they’re not tears of sadness. 

“Cas,” he starts, voice breaking on the word, “‘course you can spend your life with me, you stupid son of a bitch.” Cas smiles at the fondness in his voice. “Wouldn’t want you to spend it with anyone else. ‘Specially since I, you know…”

“No Dean, I don’t know. Especially since you what?”

Dean looks at him with pleading eyes, but Cas wants to hear him say it. He needs to know he’s wanted.

“You really gonna make me say it?” Dean chuckles, a quiet sound that reveals how vulnerable he really feels. When Cas remains silent and looks at him expectantly, Dean finally lets the words out. “I love you too ok. You happy now?” 

Cas smiles so hard he’s almost worried that his mouth will suffer permanent damage. But he can’t help it, after years of shoving his feelings aside and telling himself that no matter what, Dean would never feel the same, he’s been proven wrong. And it feels so much better than he could ever have imagined.

Instead of responding verbally to Dean’s question, Cas puts his hands on both sides of his face and pulls him into a crushing kiss. Dean takes a second to get over his surprise before kissing back, full of enthusiasm. 

Dean’s hands are on his hips keeping them both steady so Cas takes the opportunity to move his hands into Dean’s hair. It’s an action they both seem to enjoy, judging by Dean’s low moans and Cas’s fingers gripping and pulling as he pleases.

When he finally pulls away they’re both gasping for breath, chuckling slightly at the state of themselves. Cas doesn’t remember ever feeling this happy. Recently, with Dean, he’s become aware of how much he admires humans, and sort of envies them too. But he’s getting there, albeit slowly. 

“That was…” Cas begins, his brain struggling to catch up with his mouth.

“You can say that again,” says Dean.

Cas gapes at him, taken aback by his words. “That was…” he repeats unsurely.

Dean barks a laugh and places his hand on Cas’s shoulder to steady himself, before doubling over, his laughter dissolving into coughs as he tries to take in air. “God I love you,” he says, and whilst Cas can imagine far more romantic ways for this to have gone, somehow hearing Dean say it mid-cough seems perfect. 

“I love you too Dean,” he says sincerely, “and I can’t wait for you to show me how to be human.”

This seems to sober Dean, as he stands up straight and fixes a determined look on his face. “I’m gonna do better this time Cas, I swear. I’m gonna teach you all the dumb things that make us the way we are and I’m gonna do it well. We’re in this together now angel.”

If Cas were fully human, he’s ninety percent sure he’d be crying a little right now. Instead he gazes at Dean and folds their hands together, then swings them slightly, well aware of how goofy Dean will find it. Just as expected, his action lightens the mood, and the two of them stand there swinging their arms and smiling at each other like idiots.

“Oh shit, the food.” 

Cas looks behind him, only to find smoke forcing its way out of the oven. Now that Dean mentions it, he does smell burning. Clearly they were both too distracted to pay it any attention.

“Oh man, I was looking forward to trying this!” Dean takes the tray out of the oven and they both stare at it before dissolving into laughter for the second time in the past hour.

“I suppose we’ll be getting a take out,” says Cas, taking one look at the disastrous dinner and swiftly declaring it inedible.

“Guess so,” replies Dean. “You in the mood for pizza or Chinese?”

* * *

That night, after stuffing their faces with what quickly became a feast of both pizza and Chinese, the two of them position themselves on the couch, Cas’s phone laid out on the coffee table in front of them and Jack on speaker. 

“So you’ll do it?” Dean questions, wanting to make sure the kid knew what he was getting in for, then cursing slightly as he remembers the immense power he now holds.

“Of course I will,” answers Jack, then addresses Cas alone, “Castiel, you deserve to be happy. You’ve earned it.”

Cas leans forward to make sure his voice can be heard when he replies. “Thank you Jack,” he pauses, “We miss having you here.”

They hear Jack draw a sharp inhale of breath across the line. “I miss you both too, and Sam,” he sounds forlorn but perks up momentarily to add “and Eileen” at the end. 

“Hey kid? Make sure you visit more.” 

“I will Dean, I promise. I’ll be there tomorrow morning to remove Castiel’s grace.” And with that, Jack hangs up.

“Dean,” Cas starts, “do you think we should have told him about us?”

Dean pauses, letting the question digest and turning the cogs in his brain to create a response. “Nah, the kid’s smart, not to mention, you know, God. He’ll figure it out.” He lifts his legs to rest them on the arm of the couch and rotates his body until he’s positioned across Cas. Instinctively, Cas’s hand moves to grasp Dean’s, the two of them having taken no time at all to progress in their affection.

“If you say so,” sighs Cas, too tired to argue, but mostly aware that Dean’s right, even if his mind is trying to tell him otherwise. A yawn sneaks out of his mouth, and he lifts his hand to cover it instinctively, having noticed Sam’s tendency to do the same. It appears to be contagious, Dean himself yawning in response. Cas figures the food probably tired them both out.

If Jack finding them in the same position at 9am the following morning is anything to go by, it would appear that exhaustion got the better of them. Sensing his presence, Cas shifts to lift his head up, finding Jack looking curiously at them, as if trying to decipher the situation.

“Castiel,” he says, noticing his movement, and quickly steps forward to hug him, trying his hardest not to disturb Dean. Cas imagines he remembers his mistake from their time in Dodge City, having learnt to let Dean wake naturally to avoid his anger. The hug is welcomed, the angel gripping Jack tightly but, despite their best efforts, Dean’s eyes flutter open. Thankfully, Cas reacts with ease and speed, stroking his hair and letting him know that it was only Jack.

“Mmfff.” Judging by the noise Dean makes, Cas assumes he’s still half-asleep and motions at Jack for them to move into the kitchen. Untangling himself from beneath Dean’s body poses a challenge, but Cas manages to maneuver his way to standing up without waking him up again. 

In the kitchen, Jack is standing with a knife already buried in a jar of peanut butter. Cas can smell toast, and huffs a laugh once the realisation hits that Jack is making himself a PB&J. Somehow, the thought of God still enjoying such a thing tickles him. But he reasons that at least Jack is still himself, at least all that power hasn’t made him go crazy. Like it did with him, he thinks, but he isn’t going to let his mind wander there; now is not the time.

“Jack,” he starts, drawing the boy’s attention from his sandwich, “when can we start? And how long do you estimate it will take?”

Jack squints, and Cas assumes he’s making the calculations in his head. “The whole thing should only take ten minutes. We should wait for Dean to wake up before we start, I think this is something he’d like to be here for.”

Ten minutes. That’s all it will take for Cas to go from a weakened angel to a fully depowered human. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, it’s not like he’d given any thought to how long it would take to remove his grace, he just always assumed it would be a lengthy process given the power it still holds. Still, he takes the short time as a bonus. 

“Yes, I suppose we should wait for Dean. This is important to him too.” He keeps his response stilted, wanting to see Jack’s response. While he agrees with Dean that their relationship isn’t exactly hard to spot, he understands how something like that could easily go over Jack’s head. He knows first hand how hard it is to recognise human tendencies and how they change.

Jack hums in agreement as he takes a bite out of his sandwich, closing his eyes in appreciation and making Cas smile as he watches his enjoyment. “I’m happy for you, Castiel,” says Jack, mouth full and the words muffled.

Cas pauses, then proceeds with caution. “Thank you, Jack. How, uh,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “how do you feel about Dean and I?”

Jack swallows his bite and fixes his eyes on Cas, giving him his full attention. “It makes me very happy. I’m glad you’ve resumed your relationship.” He goes back to his sandwich, leaving Cas confused and still processing his words.

“Resumed our relationship?”

“Yes,” says Jack, as if that explains everything. “When I came back Sam told me about your fight. He said you were “moving on”. From what I understand, that means you broke up with Dean, right?” He looks at him earnestly, obviously proud of himself for thinking he’d figured it out.

“I...certainly understand why you would think that. But Dean and I weren’t ‘broken up’, we were never even together.” He hurries along, seeing Jack’s face drop and a frown forming between his brows, “But we are now. Dean and I, we’re together now,” he clarifies.

“Oh,” is all Jack says, still frowning, but looking far more confused than disappointed now. “So you weren’t in a relationship with Dean before you died? What about the mixtape he gave you, when I searched on the internet it told me that was something humans give to the person they love.”

Cas raises his brows in disbelief, and his mouth hangs open slightly. “No. We only started our relationship about a week ago actually.” Jack is still looking at him with questions in his eyes, which Cas assumes are going to involve the mixtape. “I’m aware of the mixtape’s connotations now, though I wasn’t at the time. It seems Dean and I were quite oblivious about a number of things.” 

“Oh,” repeats Jack, the revelation having rendered him speechless. But he recovers quickly, a huge smile lighting up his face as he offers Cas his congratulations. “Well I’m still happy for you!”

Cas’s smile grows even bigger at this, finding it endlessly amusing that Jack had simply assumed he and Dean were a couple for years, not even bothering to ask them about it. Thinking about it, he does see where he’s coming from. Although they’d never outright voiced their feelings for each other before the other night, deep down Cas had always known he loved Dean differently from how he loved Sam. And considering how badly Dean had coped with his death a few years back (he had confessed to begging Billie to take him after having too much beer one night), Cas can’t fault Jack for coming to the conclusion he did. 

“Told you the kid would figure it out,” says Dean, followed by a yawn as he stretches his arms out and walks to Cas’s side. 

Cas laughs, “See, he actually–”

“I thought you and Cas had been together for years,” interrupts Jack, wearing a grin that Cas knows Dean would only describe as shit-eating.

Dean does a double-take. “He..wait what? It is way too early to be dealing with this,” he decides, heading over to the coffee maker. “Either of you two want a cup?”

“Yes please,” Cas and Jack say at the same time, causing Dean to roll his eyes at the pair. 

“Three coffees coming right up.”

* * *

They take their time with the coffees, all three of them purposefully stalling. Cas assumes Dean and Jack are giving him time to confirm his decision, to think it over and make sure he’s absolutely certain he wants to do this. Whilst he appreciates the gesture, he can’t help but feel disappointment build inside him at the thought that there’s still some doubt in their minds about his choice, even if it is well placed. Becoming human is something he’s been considering for years, and if he’s honest, the shift in his relationship with Dean was the final push.

Thinking about their future together, Cas feels his heart beat faster, images of the two of them filling his mind. Lazy days spent in bed simply enjoying each other’s company; cooking in the kitchen that quickly turns into a food fight, and, much later, the two of them with heads full of grey hair, hands folded together and holding on tightly. Cas has never been more certain of the choice he’s making.

He sips the last of his coffee, being sure to avoid the chip, then places the mug back on the counter. Jack seems to recognise the action for what it is, a signal that he’s ready to begin.

“We should do it in the bedroom,” says Dean, the suggestion taking Cas off guard, “that way if you’re feeling weak after we won’t have to carry you to bed. Makes sense right?” 

It does make sense, and Cas is filled with love and appreciation for Dean and how much thought he seems to have put into this. “Yes, that sounds wise. Jack,” he turns to face him again, “we’ll meet you in Dean’s room once you’ve got everything you need.”

Jack squints at him, and Cas realises his mistake. Dean speaks before he does, correcting him gently with an “our room,” before taking his hand. Without thinking, Cas leans into Dean, needing to feel close to him and experience some comfort to set his mind to rest before the extraction begins. There’s no need for words, Dean understands what he’s saying regardless, and silently wraps his arm around Cas’s waist as they walk to their room. 

Cas wastes no time in lying down on the bed and adjusting himself comfortably as soon as he enters, Dean positioning himself beside him and linking their hands together. Jack appears, vial in hand, and Cas assumes that’s where his grace will end up. Bile rises in his throat, another human tendency Cas would rather skip experiencing. It tastes sour in mouth and he struggles to bite it back but manages to swallow it forcefully, leaving the unpleasant taste behind to linger and serve as a reminder of how close to being human he already is.

“It’s cool if I stay here with him, right?” Dean asks, his voice soft and low, betraying his fear. 

Jack hums, considering his question. “It should be fine,” he decides, “as long as you stay away from his mouth; the grace will be coming out there.”

Both Cas and Dean breathe an audible sigh of relief. 

Jack seems to think it best for them to begin promptly, aiming a pointed look at Cas and receiving a slight nod in return. They both close their eyes; Jack’s in concentration and Cas’s in a feeble attempt to calm himself. To the left, Dean watches entranced as blue waves flow from his mouth. They twist and move, dancing around the room in loops as he gazes in wonder, and eventually find their way into the vial. It fills up more slowly than he was anticipating, each wave taking up less than a centimetre. Once in the vial, the grace seems to calm, almost become lifeless. It stills upon touching the glass and drips lazily towards the bottom. Dean is present for the whole ten minutes – though he could swear it feels like a lifetime – sitting faithfully by Cas’s side.

True to Jack’s word, Cas feels no pain. There’s a slight discomfort, a feeling similar to how he imagines being breathless must feel like. But each time, just before he thinks he should be running out of breath, he finds himself relaxing again, discomfort gone. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Dean watching with bated breath, his hands fidgeting and left leg bouncing up and down, but his eyes still trained on Cas. Minutes pass, though to Cas the time is indeterminable. He only knows it’s over when he feels his eyelids grow heavy, and he fights the urge to close them, wanting to reassure Dean that he’s alright. The fight leaves him no more than thirty seconds later, and the last thing he sees before sleep overcomes him is Jack’s hand on Dean’s shoulder.

* * *

“How long till he wakes up?” 

Cas can hear Dean’s voice. The sound is strained, laced with concern and impatience, and Cas wonders how long he’s been out for. Things don’t feel different, not in the way Cas had expected. He’s aware of his lungs filling up with air, drinking in the oxygen he now needs to survive, and there’s the same slight discomfort from earlier when he holds the breath for too long. It comes rushing out through his mouth like waves crashing onto a beach, and the discomfort leaves once more.

He lets his eyes flutter open, the movement taking up far more energy than it should, and sees Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, head buried in his hands. Summoning the strength he has, Cas turns his head to look to the left, allowing it to rest on the pillow and taking note of Jack sitting up in the armchair across the room. He makes a noise, some sort of grunt or moan in an attempt to voice his consciousness. At the sound, Dean jumps, giving Cas a fright himself, then lets out a huge sigh of relief and rubs a hand over his forehead. 

“Dammit, Cas you scared me,” he breathes, the words themselves sounding irritated but the gentle tone opposing them and letting his nerves slip though.

“M’sorry Dean, didn’t mean to scare you,” mumbles Cas. Speaking feels odd, the low rumble of his voice vibrating at the back of his throat, a sensation Cas isn’t used to in the slightest. He tries again, curious as to how long the feeling lasts. “Did it work?” He asks, despite knowing the answer already. It doesn’t hurt to check.

“Yeah Cas, it worked,” smiles Dean, looking down at him. Cas feels his cheeks burn in his steady gaze, another bonus of becoming human. He lifts his arm – it feels heavier than he expected – and touches the back of his hand to his cheek. As suspected, his face is warm, and no doubt a similar shade of red. Despite this, he doesn’t feel embarrassed. More...vulnerable, exposed in a way he never experienced as an angel. His breathing is becoming more rapid, and he tries to focus on bringing it back to a reasonable pace. Deep breath in, hold, and exhale. Deep breath in, hold, and exhale. Five repeats and Cas is starting to relax a little, but his mind won’t keep quiet, won’t stop asking him how he was going to handle being human if he could barely breathe.

Jack stands up, startling them both. “I’ll leave you both to adjust. I promise I’ll visit soon,” he says, and before Cas can even thank him he’s gone. 

“He was in a hurry,” laughs Dean, the sound filling the room and seeming louder than Cas remembers it sounding before. He finds himself copying the sound, not deliberately, but just out of habit. They must look crazy, he thinks, laughing at nothing. Dean’s head is thrown back and his shoulders are rising up and down in time with his laughter. Cas finds his own laughter is more resigned, his shoulders also moving but his head still upright, enabling his eyes to have an easy view of Dean. The laughter subsides, until they’re both left heaving for breaths and grinning widely. 

“How you feeling?” Dean asks, breaking the silence.

Cas thinks about it, then answers as honestly as he can. Words dance in his brain, but he can’t seem to pick the right ones to respond. “Strange. Not good strange or bad strange. Just...different.” 

The corners of Dean’s mouth turn up slightly as he speaks. “Guess that makes sense, it’s a pretty big change huh?”

“Yes, it is.”

“You know, Cas,” Dean starts, sounding far more serious than he did a second ago, “I’ll be here this time. I’m gonna help you through this whole thing and I just need you to know you’re not alone here. And that I love you.”

It’s the first time Cas has heard Dean say those words to him as a human, and the feeling in his heart and his stomach aren’t in any way comparable to how it felt as an angel. Before, he knew what the words meant, knew how difficult it was for Dean to say them. But he never felt the words as such. They were just...words, spoken with meaning of course but never fully recognised by Cas as what they were. Now, however, his heart is beating wildly in his chest and his palms feel slightly sweaty. His stomach is doing flips again and fluttering uncontrollably, the sensation making Cas feel giddy with joy. His eyes are wider than they’ve ever been as he glances up at Dean, and they stay that way as he tilts his head upwards to press his lips to Dean’s.

If he didn’t know any better, Cas would say he felt sparks as they kissed. Ironically, his trail of thought leads him to remember their first meeting, a time when sparks literally did fly. Things have changed majorly since then, which isn’t surprising considering all they’ve been through. Seeing Dean for the first time changed him, his soul shining brighter than any of the others in hell, and Cas thinks that even then he knew the Righteous Man would impact his life greatly. 

Dean pulls back, lips still parted and eyes staring at Cas in astonishment. Maybe he didn’t imagine it, maybe there really were sparks. 

He’s struck by the thought that this was his first kiss as a human (he refuses to count April), and the idea leaves him breathless and hungry for more. It seems his hands have developed a mind of their own, his left one lifting up to graze his fingers across his lips. They’re still chapped, a result of neglected care when he thought his body didn’t need it, but they feel softer and more damp now too.

As Dean’s lips touch his again, Cas is hit with an overwhelming feeling of, well, Dean. Dean’s lips on his, Dean’s hands on his hips, Dean’s breath on his face as they pull away to breathe. His lips taste of whiskey and Cas treasures it, chasing it with his mouth determined to remember every part of it.

They break away, and Cas lets his gaze drop to Dean’s lips, ready to lean back in, when he’s stopped by Dean’s hand on his chest. His eyes flit back up, questioning the interruption.

“Not that I don’t want this, ‘cause believe me, I do, but you need to rest Cas.”

He opens his mouth to argue that no, he doesn’t need rest, he’s just rested for God knows how long, and now he wants to explore Dean and discover how his body reacts to the touch.

“Nope, I’m not gonna let you talk me out of this,” says Dean, hand moving from Cas’s chest and dropping down to rest on top of his thigh instead. “We can pick this up later,” he promises, “and we can do anything you want, let you figure out what human you likes.”

As much as they frustrate him, Cas can see the logic in Dean’s words. At least if he rests now he’ll have plenty of time to try new things later. “Alright,” he agrees, “I’ll rest. But only if you stay with me.”

Dean grins and flops down next to him. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

Cas wakes up ten hours later to an empty bed and an equally empty stomach. He’d forgotten what hunger felt like, the way it makes his stomach growl and his head ache. He sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, wanting to hurry to the kitchen, but as he stands his vision blurs, spots appearing in front of him and sending his body off balance. For a second, he wants to shout for Dean, ask him why his body is malfunctioning and how he can fix it. The second passes, his vision clears, and Cas feels a strange sense of pride and independence over not asking for help.

He makes it to the kitchen with ease, his legs no longer feeling like jelly. Perhaps his nose helps, strange as it sounds, the smell of pancakes and bacon filling the corridors and leading him towards their origin. He’s delighted to find Dean putting the finishing touches on two stacks of pancakes, drizzling maple syrup over the edges. Cas is unashamed to admit that his eyes follow the food, rather than Dean, and he almost ignores him entirely as he sits down and digs in without a second thought.

He’s vaguely aware of Dean’s laughter as he sits down opposite him, eating his breakfast in a far more reserved fashion than Cas, who is already demolishing his second pancake and making appreciative noises as he swallows the mouthfuls. The role reversal is interesting, he thinks, it’s strange seeing Dean be the more polite eater.

“Woah Cas, slow down there or you’re gonna choke,” says Dean, causing Cas to finally spare him a glance.

“M’sorry,” he replies, mouth full of pancake and bacon and syrup, “I’m just so hungry.”

Dean looks less concerned now, and his mouth turns upwards into a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’d just rather you didn’t die on your first day being human.”

Cas chuckles at the thought, thinking of how heaven would react to Castiel, former Angel of the Lord, dying from choking on pancakes made by none other than Dean Winchester. They’d probably think he had it coming, but Cas isn’t going to ruin his day by dwelling on the thought.

“They’re very good pancakes,” he says, aiming a huge grin at Dean to show his appreciation. 

“Well I’m glad you like them. I just wanted your first meal to be good, y’know.” He can tell Dean is trying to play it off as a simple gesture, but Cas can see how sincere he is, how much he wanted to make sure he enjoyed the breakfast. Cas adds it to the list of never-ending reasons why he loves him.

“You’ve done a very good job,” he says, before directing his attention back to the pancakes. He shovels more into his mouth, enough to almost fall back out again. Dean’s eyes are still on him, but he doesn’t notice.

After breakfast, Dean announces his plans for the day, consisting entirely of watching movies, eating more food and drinking beer. Of course, he’s quick to remind Cas that he’ll have to go easy on the beer, it being his first time drinking as a human, but he assures him he’ll be there to look after him.

And that’s how they spend the day, huddled together in their room beneath a blanket that just about covers them both, alternating between shop-bought pie and popcorn and each taking turns to pick the next movie.

All in all, Cas would say his first day as a human was more than enjoyable.

* * *

It isn’t until three days later that Cas finally decides what he wants to do with the vial of grace. They’re in the impala, driving with no particular destination in mind, other than somewhere with minimal people or distractions. Dean had woken him this morning with a suggestion that he learns how to drive properly, now that he doesn’t have his grace to rely on. Initially, Cas had looked at him dumbfounded, partially because he was still half asleep, but mostly because he never expected Dean to trust him with Baby. So now they’re driving through rural Kansas with the windows rolled down and speakers turned up.

“Dean, I know what I want to do with my grace.” He speaks with his eyes fixed forwards, focussing on the road in front of him and trying not to worry about how Dean might react.

“Yeah? You wanna share with the class?” 

In any other circumstance, Cas would smile and roll his eyes fondly. But this isn’t just any circumstance, and Cas wants Dean’s approval of his idea. “I think,” he starts, then re-evaluates his choice of words, “I’ve decided that I want to leave my grace in Lake Perry.” 

He watches Dean carefully, still getting used to gaging his reaction without being able to feel his soul. At the thought of Dean’s soul, his stomach lurches, his brain reminding him that now that he’s human, he’ll never be able to see it again. He shouldn’t be thinking about this, he should be grateful that he gets to see Dean at all. There’s a tight feeling in his chest when he thinks about how Dean would feel if he knew he was mourning his ability to see his soul; the last thing he wants to do is make him feel inadequate. The space around him seems to shrink, and Cas tries to focus on breathing, tries to focus on anything except the newfound human hatred for himself threatening to bubble over the surface.

“Cas? Hey, you doing ok there?” He appears to have zoned out momentarily, and he curses his inability to just be a normal human for once. “Cas, sweetheart? I think I lost you there again.”

“Sorry, I was just...thinking, I suppose.” He exhales and tries to bring his breathing back to normal, wanting to hide any discomfort he’s experiencing from Dean and avoid any further questions.

“Sure. As long as you’re ok,” smiles Dean, tight-lipped and evidently still full of concern for Cas. “But really, Lake Perry? What sort of significance does that have to anything? It’s just some lake that's like, what, a three hour drive from here?”

“Three and a half, actually,” Cas corrects without thinking.

“Even better.”

They lapse into silence for a moment while a new song starts up. 

“Look, Cas. Not that I’m gonna tell you what to do with your grace or anything, but why the hell do you wanna dump it in Lake Perry?”

Cas shuffles in his seat. Really, he was naive to think he could avoid having this conversation without explaining his reasoning behind the decision. It’s not like he doesn’t want to tell Dean, of course he does. He just knows how he feels about things being too sentimental, too Hallmark. Looks like he’ll just have to risk it.

“It was in your dream once,” he starts, purposefully looking out of the window, “the one where you were fishing. I assumed it held some sort of emotional value to you, that you visited as a child perhaps.”

“You mean the one from way back when? The one you decided to hijack to tell me something important, but never got the chance to?”

Cas is surprised he even remembers. It’s not like they were friends at that point. Allies maybe, but not friends. “Yes, that one. It was serene, you looked more relaxed than I had ever seen you. I suppose you could say it piqued my interest.

“After Lucifer was released, I went to the real one. But it wasn’t as peaceful as I remembered it,” he sighs, recalling his swallowed disappointment at the real Lake Perry. “I think it made me angry, though I can’t say for certain; human emotions were still foreign to me. But whatever I felt, it wasn't peace. And yet I kept going back. For years Dean, I kept visiting, hoping to find the same peace you felt in your dream. And then the angels fell and heaven collapsed, and I was human. When I left the bunker I didn’t know what to do,” he hears Dean bite back a strangled noise from his throat and places his hand on top of his. “I found a map on the ground in the centre of Lebanon and found the lake. From there it wasn’t hard. I ‘hitchhiked’ a few times until I was sure it was within walking distance, and then I used the map to find my way.” He takes another deep breath to steady himself.

“Dean, when I got there it was like I had finally found the thing I’d been looking for for years. It sounds stupid I know…” he trails off, embarrassed at his explanation.

“It doesn’t sound stupid.” His voice is soft and quiet, the words barely making their way past his lips. 

“Thank you, that means a lot. I think being there as a human gave me a greater understanding towards humanity as a whole. I’m not sure I felt at peace as such – I was still conflicted about my future without you and Sam – but for the first time in my existence, my mind was empty. There was nothing, no thoughts, no ‘angel radio’, nothing to torment me. It wasn’t peace, but it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to it.” Regardless of what Dean says next, thinks Cas, I’m glad I told him. 

Cas hears Dean inhale, then exhale, the breath released in short bursts as he digests the information. “Cas,” the choked out word draws his attention to Dean, “God I, I need you to hear me out here. I will never regret anything as much as kicking you out of the bunker when you needed us the most.” Each word is punctuated harshly, Dean’s way of making sure his point is heard loud and clear. “And before you say it, I know you forgive me, God even though I don’t deserve it, but I need you to know how much I wish I could take it back. I should’a been there, I should’a been the one to teach you how to brush your teeth and how to do your laundry. I should’a been there.”

“You’re here now, that’s what counts.” 

He understands how he feels – unfortunately self-loathing is a trait they have both yet to extinguish – and he wants this to be a new start for them.

“Next stop Lake Perry?” asks Dean, leaning over to bump his shoulder with Cas’s and easing the tension around them. 

“Yes. Lake Perry,” mirrors Cas, reaching to turn the volume up for their impromptu road trip.

Just as he said, it takes them three and a half hours to make it to the lake. They spend their time laughing and telling stupid jokes, and taking turns to pick the music while the other guesses the song (Dean wins obviously – it is his collection – but Cas does respectably well too). All in all, it’s a pretty great ride. That doesn’t stop the knots from forming in Cas’s stomach at the thought of getting rid of the last of his grace once and for all. 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean shakes his arm and playfully hits him to grab his attention. “We’re here.”

He glances out the window and is surprised to see the sun shining, what with it raining non-stop for the past two hours. Some kind of twisted fate, he supposes. Maybe the universe is supporting his decision, though he doubts the universe cares. He fumbles for the vial underneath his collar, pulling it out by the chain and holding it in his hands for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Dean appears to notice his discomfort, and takes his free hand into his, giving it a squeeze before opening the door and stepping out. It’s little gestures like this that make Cas so immensely grateful to have Dean by his side, to have this hunter who feels things and understands things far more than he knows. Yes, it’s a great relief for him to have Dean to guide him through the ins and outs of humanity.

Realising Dean is outside waiting for him, he pulls himself together and exits the Impala. Before him sits a giant stretch of water, small waves lapping gently along the shore and glistening in the afternoon sun. Dean is already approaching the jetty he sat on in his dream, and Cas follows, eager to get on with it. He thinks if it were any other day, he would have asked Dean if they could swim in the lake. Or not even swim, just lay on their backs floating, without a care in the world. But they’re not here for leisure, this is more of a business trip, and Cas wants to take the time to say goodbye to his existence as an angel and finally feel at peace with himself.

“You coming or what?” shouts Dean from the lakefront, beckoning him down with his hands. 

Cas responds with a shaky nod, and forces his legs to run the remainder of the distance between where he was standing and where he needs to be.

He’s out of breath by the time he gets there, an indication that he really should be taking Sam’s advice when it comes to exercise, and not Dean’s. “That was exhilarating,” he manages between breaths. 

“Looked like you were gonna fall over the whole time. I was ready to run over and help you,” says Dean. 

He fixes him with an unimpressed look. “Uh Dean, would you mind waiting back there while I do this? It’s not that I don’t want you here it’s just, this feels like something I should do alone.” He’s half waiting for Dean to protest, but for the most part he believes he will understand and respect his wishes.

“Sure, you’re right. This is your moment, I get why you need to do it alone.” He grabs his hand again, giving it another reassuring squeeze, “I’ll be with Baby if you need me. Take as long as you need.”

Cas heaves a sigh of relief as he watches Dean retreat up the hill. It’s kind of ironic, he thinks, that the first time he was here, it was as an angel watching over Dean Winchester in his dreams. Now, however, the roles are almost reversed, with Dean standing over and watching him instead. He’s hit once again with a wave of happiness as he thinks about the life he’s chosen, about the future he can have with Dean. It’s the one decision he knows he’ll never regret, not even for a second. 

He shoots one last glance back at Dean before heading to the edge of the jetty. The wooden planks have been replaced since he was last here, having been close to falling apart with rot. It’s just one more thing he has to be grateful for. As he takes the final step, he’s aware of the nature around him, all of God’s creations. There was a time when he would have been the oldest here, older than all of the birds and the fish and the plants that surround him. Now he’s almost certainly the youngest, having only been human for a grand total of five days. He probably won’t ever get used to it, the vague feeling of inferiority that sits at the bottom of his stomach, but he can accept that. He’s learnt along the years that power isn’t all it’s made out to be.

The last wooden plank lies beneath his feet, and he can hear the water splashing against it. The knots in his stomach have gone, replaced with what Dean called “butterflies” a few days ago, when Cas voiced his concern that being near him made his stomach feel dizzy. Dean had stared at him before it clicked what he was referring to, and then his face had split into a smile as he offered an explanation as to why he was experiencing it. Nerves, he had said, you’re nervous Cas. And sorta excited too.

Nerves and excitement are fitting, he thinks, taking vial in his hands once again. It’s small, the whole thing easily wrapped in a single hand and hidden from watching eyes, and yet it feels heavy in his palm. There’s a slight heat radiating into his skin; it’s a reminder that it’s still alive, there’s still some left. If he really wanted to, he could take it back, become an angel again, if not for very long. He might have been tempted if it weren’t for...well, everything. His distance from Heaven, his connection with humanity, Dean. He knows what he wants, has done for years. As much as he ignored it, pretended not to notice, the urge only grew stronger. Perhaps Hester was right, though it pains him to admit it, perhaps he was lost the second he touched Dean’s soul in Hell. 

But it doesn’t matter now. Meeting the Winchesters has led to the best parts of his life, and he’s honoured that they’re still willing to accept him into their family after everything he’s done. The vial is still attached to the chain around Cas’s neck, and he realises for the first time that he’ll need to remove it. He grips the vial and lifts it out in front of him, then tugs it in hopes of separating it from the chain. It doesn’t work. Great, he thinks, another downside to becoming human. But he doesn’t let the thought discourage him. Summoning all the strength he can muster he pulls again. The chain breaks, the force sending it flying into the water in front of him. 

Minutes pass, and still Cas remains frozen. 

The logical part of his brain knows that he isn’t alone in this, that Dean is less than fifteen feet away keeping a watchful eye on him. The other part of his brain, the part that seems to have emerged anxiety-ridden since he became human, is back to taunting him, telling him he shouldn’t do this. Telling him that if he does (no, when he does) it’ll be the final straw. Dean will no longer have any need for him. 

“Shut up!” Cas screams at the lake and at his mind. For once, just once, he wishes his brain would quiet. He’s sick of the constant pessimism and self-deprecation, he just wants it to stop. Fuck, he thinks, stubbonly refusing to turn and see Dean’s reaction. Behind him, the hunter has tensed, fighting the urge to run to Cas and ask what’s wrong. He wants to, he thinks he should be down there comforting him, but Cas asked him to stay. So he respects his wishes. 

Somehow, the screaming worked, and Cas makes a mental note to remember that for the next time his mind decides to lie to him. The taunting has stopped, and instead, he feels a strange sense of calmness wash over him. In an effort to prevent the peace from dissipating, Cas tries to think about the best parts of his life so far, the moments he wants to use as a foundation on which to build his and Dean’s future on. Many of them took place in the bunker with the four of them sitting around the map table: Sam shuffling cards ready to be dealt; Jack watching him with a look of intrigue and wonder, questioning how he could make the cards move so quickly; Dean laughing fondly at him and taking a swig of his beer, and then himself, glancing around and taking it all in, that strange family of his. 

Of course, Dean plays the starring role in the majority of these moments – their movies nights making more than a few appearances – but his love for Sam and Jack overwhelms him a little as he lets himself get lost in the memories. Notably, there’s the time he took Jack to a museum. He smiles as he thinks about Jack tugging his arm as he led him to the exhibitions. His visits to the library with Sam are the next to cross his mind, with Cas being the one led around this time. They’d spent hours upon hours there, though they both confessed to feeling the time pass quickly, just huddled in a corner reading. Sam had been eager to finally have someone who shared his love of literature, and didn’t hesitate to find a stack of recommendations for him to read.

He’s lucky to have found people that love him the way they do. He’s not sure he’s deserving of it, but that’s something that can be worked on.

Spirits lifted, Cas takes his chance before he changes his mind. Keeping the image of his family laughing and smiling at the forefront of his mind, he lifts his arm and propels it forward, releasing the vial mid-air. 

It lands in the lake with a quiet plop, barely disrupting the water around it and only sending slight ripples across the surface. How strange that an object of such power could have such little effect on its surroundings.

Cas closes his eyes and just breathes. The deed is done. He’s fully human, with no grace left and no option of ever returning to his angelic self. And he’s happy. 

Hester was wrong, thinks Cas, eyes wide open and looking back at Dean leaning against the Impala, he wasn’t lost. He was found.


	2. IT'S CANON

I wrote this months ago and I honestly never imagined it could actually be possible in canon, but after 15x18 I'm a little overwhelmed. It's finally canon that Cas is in love with Dean, so this is officially what I want to happen if they manage to defeat Chuck and get Cas back.


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